Lonely Table, Empty Heart
by musicbendr
Summary: Quinn tells Finn the truth, and he doesn't take it all too well. Quinn/Rachel.


Finn Hudson is a golden boy, and everyone knows it. OK, sure, he's not really _perfect_, but it's the fact that he doesn't try to hide his lack of perfection that makes him all the more admirable. He's a great guy and he cares about everyone and everything under the sun, from serial killers who take advice from their dogs (who Finn feels bad for because they're clearly mentally disturbed) to the tiniest little red ants that scurry around and nip at ankles (Finn insists that they can't possibly know any better). But the thing about really sweet, really loyal people is that they get really hurt when someone betrays them. The jealousy just wells up inside until it overflows into red hot anger and that little angel suddenly becomes a little devil and the friendship is over. Or, in the case of Finn Hudson and Quinn Fabray, the relationship is over.

Quinn honestly thought that he could take the news that Puck was the father if she explained it properly to him: that it had been a simple party, that Puck had put something in her drink, that she'd been really thirsty that night from all the various salty dishes Puck insisted she eat, that she hardly could remember having the actual sex at all, that she woke up naked and shamed and staring at Puck's stupid half-assed mohawk, that she bolted. And then, of course, the most important came, being that she didn't even make it home before she broke down into a massive multitude of tears and had to calm herself down by sitting on a bench for half an hour. Finn listens to her story with rapt attention like a dog sitting and listening to its master speak: never wavering, always looking, but not quite understanding the words that spill into ears. And when she finishes Finn ceases to be a dog and starts to act like a human, his head in his hands and the forcibly muttered expression that he doesn't want to see her again. After he's been such a good boyfriend, he says, how could she do this to him?

She wants to reply that it's not her fault, but she knows better. The sweetest, most loyal boys are also often the most emotional, and jealousy and love are the two that blind them the most. So she lets him walk away just like that because even though it's heartbreaking to go through this alone, going through it with Finn- not being able to tell him that the baby isn't his- might have ripped her heart right out of her chest. Even though she's been raised in a fairly secluded household, Quinn knows how life works and when two people should just give it up. She may ask Puck if he wants to be there for his daughter, yet she knows that he won't be able to do such a thing no matter how hard he tries and the baby's probably better off without him anyway.

This is how Quinn ends up on her own at lunch on Monday morning. She doesn't know where to sit at _all_ and she realizes that she honestly has no real friends. No one's waving at her to come and sit with them, no voices shouting at her from one of the tables on the far end. All she's ever really had was Finn and now he's gone. Even if he's being kind of an asshole about this baby, he's at least good company and she can use some of that right now. Quinn walks around for a couple of more passes until she deems that she looks completely pathetic, which makes her want to drop her tray and let it clatter to the ground while she slumps to her knees and bawls. But she's still head cheerleader (for the moment) and she has to keep her head held high. She does this, walking past the stares and the glares and the envious glances and out onto one of the termite-ridden picnic tables with soggy wood and more graffiti sprayed on them than a New York subway car. It's cold outside so Quinn has to put her big, bulky, beige winter coat on to keep warm. She packs her own lunch every day, so she knows exactly what she'll find when she opens her baby blue lunch box (Quinn feels the need to save the whales and the polar bears and the manatees and whatever other cute creature she can, so she packs lunch in a lunch box). There's her usual cucumber and cream cheese sandwich and her pre-sliced apple and her metal water bottle and her special treat of three Oreo's. Quinn packs a different dessert each day because she likes to change it up some, but not too much. With a sigh, Quinn puts her fingers over the frigid metal of her bottle and can't believe it hasn't frozen out here yet.

It's day one and she eats alone.

On day two, Quinn repeats the motion that she had done the previous day and will probably do for countless days to come. Today, however, Rachel Berry watches the cheerleader's walk of shame with piqued curiosity, slight satisfaction, and an incredibly deep form of sympathy. None of Rachel's new Gleek friends save for the cheerleaders and jocks have the same lunch as she does, so she sits with a couple of kids from her English class who don't really like her but don't really hate her either. She spends her lunch time engrossed in a book and occasionally engaged in conversation about some mundane school activity or assignment.

So Rachel's not really sacrificing anything but heat when she follows Quinn out to the old and rugged picnic area, bypassing her table without receiving any questioning stares. She highly doubts that they even notice she's missing. The clear glass doors to the outside world loom in front of her like the entrance to the gates of Hell and she's not quite sure what she'll find on the other side. She half-expects the words "Abandon all hope ye who enter here" to magically appear atop the cafeteria's door as she pushes them open, but it never does. There's a sort of comforting thought that maybe she's _not_ entering into Hell after all, and Rachel wonders if this lunch period might even end up bordering on civil.

Quinn doesn't really acknowledge Rachel's presence very much except for a very conveniently timed shiver that shakes through her body as soon as Rachel sits down. The temperature is about the same as it was yesterday, but Quinn forgot to grab a heavier coat this morning when she left the house so all she has to cover her is a cream colored Cape May sweatshirt, dark jeans that hug her ever-growing thighs much too closely, and Ugg boots which she only owns because they're soft and warm and she doesn't have anyone to impress anymore. Rachel's slightly better dressed, her multiple layers of argyle wrapped around her like a fuzzy blanket. Pity wells in her eyes and Rachel sighs inwardly, pulling the off-white wool knit beanie from her head. With a bit of a struggle but not a hint of resistance from a shocked Quinn, the little bauble on the top of Rachel's hat finally settles down after she's finished jamming the hat onto the other girl's head, making sure to cover her ears up. Rachel has to admit that Quinn _does_ look kind of adorable in that hat with a silly look frozen on her face.

There's an awkward silence until the pregnant girl returns to her half-eaten sandwich, while the singer begins to munch on celery and conquer her latest literary masterpiece (_Emma_ by Jane Austen, Quinn observes). It's quiet for the rest of the period and when the bell rings they don't say good-bye, but Rachel makes sure to hold the door open for Quinn as they return to the inferno.

The third day is pretty much the same, and Quinn seems to be absent-minded about winter attire because she forgot her coat _again_. This is time it's because she was throwing up all morning and didn't have a second to grab it before running out the door. Rachel anticipated this before she left for school and remembered to bring a pair of pink earmuffs, a golden ski cap, and a rainbow scarf. Quinn manages to get the headgear on all by herself, but her shivering, numb fingers have trouble tying the scarf so her random companion has to do it for her. Rachel makes a mental note to bring gloves tomorrow.

It turns out that Rachel needn't have worried about Quinn's chills on day four because she's finally had enough of a thought process to set them out the night before. Rachel contemplates making a joke about giving the Salvation Army the assorted accessories she brought for Quinn, but then thinks better of it. She goes on to the read the end of _Emma_ and forces herself to slow down a bit so that she won't finish before lunch is over. Quinn tries to sneak a look at the pages of the book every so often, but it's all in old people British and much to hard to understand through over-the-shoulder reading. She wonders if she should start bringing a book to lunch every day and if stewing around in a fantasy land is better than stewing around with her very confusing thoughts.

Day five changes nothing except for Rachel's book. She now spends their time together reading _The Lovely Bones _by Alice Sebold. Quinn can tell that it's a much loved book and that Rachel's most likely read it a zillion times before because the corners of the pages are all bent back and the cover's fraying and curling just a little at the edges. She tries to watch Rachel's actions without being creepy and manages to deduce that Rachel chews very daintily and turns the pages of the book like the people who read to little kids at the library do, with that extravagant extra flick of the wrist in slow motion. Maybe Rachel _does_ read to little kids at the library, but Quinn will never know because she's not brave enough to ask.

On the sixth day, it snows and Rachel and Quinn huddle together on the cold hard wood of the bench. Rachel doesn't get out her book because she's afraid that the pages will get wet from the snow. Quinn's stubborn attitude toward the whole situation keeps them outside the entire time and Rachel desperately wants to return to her old table, but she can't just leave her new friend, or whatever Quinn actually is to her. It's not so bad with their combined body heat, though, and Rachel even reaches over the blonde's waist to draw her in closer. Their knees and legs and shoulders and arms are touching. It's like they're in middle school all over again.

Quinn finally says something on day seven. It's Monday now and the snow has cleared up, and it's even warm enough to be vaguely pleasant. The sun is shining and it feels like a good day to ask one very important question.

"Why are you sitting out here with me? You know I wouldn't do the same thing for you," Quinn asks gently. She tries her best not to offend Rachel since she'd _really _not have her heat source and only company disappear on account of one bad statement. There are too many of those in her past.

Rachel sighs and neatly folds over the corner of the page she's on and looks at Quinn directly in the eyes. The stare is so intense that the cheerleader almost turns away but she knows if she does she will lose all of Rachel's respect. "I know what it's like to be in your position, Quinn. And no matter what lies and rumors you've been spreading for the past few years, I am _not_ a horrible person. I know a person in need when I see one. You're clearly in need."

Quinn can't help but bite. "In need of what?"

"Friends, someone to love, help, just someone to sit with?" Rachel shrugs. "I don't really know. You have to answer that question yourself."  
The usually outspoken and hostile cheerleader has to literally bite her tongue to keep herself from coming back with a stinging barb, but she doesn't want to hurt Rachel's feelings after she's been so nice to her. She's not even sure _why_ she feels the need to hurt the girl so badly; it's probably out of habit more than anything else. "I don't really know the answer. I mean, I obviously don't want to go through this whole pregnancy alone."

"I don't want you to, either." The weight of Rachel's words takes a moment to settle on Quinn's chest, but once they do it doesn't seem like a horrible burden to bear, more like the weight of a warm blanket than a crushing stone.

"You mean that?"

Awkwardly, Rachel grins at the girl sitting right next to her. "Would I be sitting out here in the cold with you every day if I didn't?" It's intended to be something light and funny though Quinn takes it more seriously and nearly bursts into tears from how little she deserves to have Rachel there for her as a friend.

Day seven ends with the same awkward silence it began with but this time, tiny smiles adorn each girl's face as she goes.

Day eight comes around and Quinn asks Rachel about _The Lovely Bones_. Rachel talks animatedly about it the entire lunch period once she latches onto Quinn's genuine interest. She doesn't actually give half a hoot about the book itself no matter how good it's supposed to be, but is more fascinated by Rachel's enthusiasm. The brunette likes to wave her hands wildly whenever she talks and her eyes sparkle and her whole body seems to glow. It's enthralling.

Rachel brings in her iPod on the ninth day and they listen to some show tunes, everything from the "new classics" like _Wicked _and _RENT _and _Next to Normal_ to the old standbys such as _Cabaret _and _Camelot _and _My Fair Lady_ to the ones that no one knows but Rachel thinks that they should which include _The Me Nobody Knows _and _Nine_ and _Mame_. Rachel only has one set of headphones so they have to lean in real close and Quinn's alright with that because it provides lots of body heat (she still likes to pretend that that's the only reason the too of them sit very near each other) and she actually enjoys the music.

By the end of day nine, Quinn has gotten Rachel hooked on Vitamin Water and she fears that she's created a monster.

On day ten Rachel pulls a bottle of the stuff out of her pretty, sparkly, pink lunch box and they both share a good laugh.

Day eleven is the first day that Quinn cries while at the table. She didn't cry on that lonely, lonely first day at all, but now she does. She's just finished bringing Rachel up to speed on the entire situation surrounding her pregnancy and it's made her cry like a little baby. It doesn't help that Finn and Puck hardly acknowledge her or each other in Glee anymore unless they're forced to and their previous quarterback/wide receiver has severely tanked in the past several weeks. Quinn cries because it's her fault that there's such a visibly fragmented dynamic in the group and she wishes that she never caused such a thing to occur.

Instead of comforting her, Rachel bitterly mutters, "It's horrible once it happens to you, isn't it?" She's referring to all the other groups Quinn has broken up and all the friendships she's destroyed.

The guilt hits Quinn with the force of an avalanche, growing larger and larger as the moments get longer and longer. She can't stand it, and she can't believe that she put people though _this_: the horrible, bottomless pit of despair and self-loathing that she's put countless others through. "I don't deserve a friend like you."

"Maybe not right now. But I think that one day, you will," Rachel replies and reaches over to rub the blonde's back in tiny circles. They stay like this for the rest of lunch and day ten is like the early days in the way that they do not speak. Quinn just sobs over her food and drowns her cucumber and cream cheese sandwich in a puddle of her tears. Rachel keeps rubbing her back, and she knows that Quinn has turned onto the right road and she's on the way to becoming the person she was supposed to have been in the first place.

"No offense or anything, but you look like hell," Rachel says at the end of lunch once Quinn has finally stopped bawling. She manages a nod as if to agree with Rachel's statement, so Rachel takes that as a sign to rummage through Quinn's bag until she finds her make-up. As she begins to apply it Quinn cocks an eyebrow to make sure that the theater geek actually knows how to do it. "I've been around make-up even before you. Stage make-up, you know?"

"That always makes people look like clowns up close," Quinn blurts out and they both chuckle a little at the image of Quinn with full-on clown make-up and accessories.

"I don't know. I think you'd look adorable with one of those big red noses," Rachel muses idly as she wipes off the mascara trails running down Quinn's cheeks and replacing the item on her eyelashes with a practiced delicacy.

Quinn snorts at Rachel's words, but doesn't move her face for fear of screwing up her make-up. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, I'm going to have to trust you on that one."

Rachel moves from Quinn's eyelashes to the various tubes of lip gloss laid out on the table. "It's that one," Quinn tells her, nodding to a fairly light shade of pink at the far end. Upon picking it up, the brunette notices the label on the product.

"'Innocent Vixen?'" She immediately dissolves into a giggle fit until Quinn can pull her out of it.

"I like the color- I try not to read the names," she admits with a wince.

Bare lips puff out in front of her and for a second Rachel thinks Quinn's going to kiss her. Then she remembers she's applying the other girl's lip stick and that she definitely shouldn't be so flustered by the thought of kissing Quinn Fabray. "It looks good on you," are the words that she uses to suppress the overwhelming desire to kiss Quinn, which really aren't words that suppress her desire much at all. "You're all done."

Excitedly, Quinn fishes for her compact mirror to see her finished face. To her pleasant surprise, she looks really good. Rachel has some talent at this after all. "This looks _so_ good, Rachel. Thank you."

As the lunch bell rings on day eleven, they share their first friendly hug.

Day twelve starts off with some forced laughter because they both feel slightly awkward about the hug they shared yesterday, but by the end of it they're bent over cracking up about something and Rachel's hand lands on Quinn's back. She leaves it on the cheerleader's winter coat and isn't sure if Quinn can tell it's even there through her seven or so layers. If she does notice, she doesn't say anything about it. The bell rings and Rachel has to dash off to her math class, which is when Quinn remembers that she baked chocolate chip cookies this morning to give to Rachel to thank her for being so nice. But the girl's already gone, and Quinn supposes that she'll have to stop by sometime after school.

The Berry house is much more _normal _than Quinn expected it to be, what with two gay guys and Rachel around to decorate it. She then realizes that gay guys having a flamboyant sense of style is a stereotype and she should probably avoid those if she wants to make a good impression. It's just mosaic of large stones of all different types on a side that's two stories tall, and then a small slope down to a smaller one story bit compromised of whitewashed siding. There's quite a few windows on the house, but none of the curtains are incredibly extravagant or anything of the sort. They're actually more neutral tones, grays and blues and beiges and one set of a beautiful deep red. The overall feeling of the house is comforting and welcoming, no hostility involved.

Feeling like a total loser with her 4th of July paper plate covered by aluminum foil, Quinn rings the doorbell forcibly and is less than surprised to here "Cabaret" echoing through the house. She recognizes the tune from her crash course in Broadway education three days ago as well as a song she used to dance to with her father when she was young. Every Sunday after church, she remembers, her father would sing poorly and off-key as they waltzed around through the pews. Quinn knows that her younger self insisted that you couldn't waltz to that song, but her father always found a way. And then her maternal grandmother came to live with them when Quinn was eight and sucked the fun out of her life.

One of Rachel's dads opens the door, dressed in a furry green bathroom, pajamas, and cute bear slippers. There's a mug of something steaming in his hands with what looks like a child's drawing screen-printed onto it, probably one of Rachel's from kindergarten. He sniffles and adjusts his glasses so that he can see Quinn properly. "Can I help you?" he wheezes.

Quinn feels awkward standing there like a Girl Scout with her damn cookies and red coat and dark jeans and black Ugg boots (they _are _her favorite footwear, after all). "Um, hi. I'm Rachel's friend- Quinn." It's strangely pleasant to call herself Rachel's friend, but it fills her up with warmth and happiness that manifests itself in a tiny smile.

Rachel's dad seems vaguely shocked by this as though Rachel doesn't get many visitors. However, Quinn thinks with a wince, that's probably true. "She didn't mention anything about anyone coming over."

"Am I intruding? I can come back later..." Quinn immediately steps back, guilt shooting through her like poison. What was she thinking? She should've called first or something.

"No, no, it's fine," he assures her. "I'm just a little surprised."

"Well, I was kind of hoping to surprise Rachel, so I guess I've accomplished that," she says stupidly. Talking to Rachel's dad wears on her nerves and she grates her teeth because she's annoyed at herself for acting like a two-year-old.

The sick man coughs a little bit and beckons for her to come inside. "I apologize in advance if I get any germs on you."

"It's fine. I'm sorry for busting in on you like this, and I'm sorry for making you move. You look like you should probably be in bed. I really like your doorbell, too." Quinn cringes at her callous-sounding words with that out-of-place ending and wants to take them back, but Rachel's dad starts talking again before she can do so.

"I was up anyway. I need my daily hot chocolate." He raises his warm cup and takes a sip. Quinn thinks that it's kind of adorable to see a grown man drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows in it and earning a little mustache in the process. She helps him by gesturing around her own lips until he notices and wipes it off with a laugh. "Thanks for that. And you should tell Rachel about the doorbell; she picked it out. Her room is right through here, up the stairs."

He makes motions with his hands and shuffles through the neatly furnished living room where "What Not to Wear" is playing on midsize flat screen TV. Quinn smiles at his choice of program. "That girl has no hope," he comments, gesturing to the woman on TV who is freaking out over the disposal of an outfit that looks suspiciously like a nun's habit.

"That's probably true," Quinn finds herself saying, agreeing with a man that she hardly knows.

"I'm James, by the way." He plops himself back down on the couch and sneezes loudly into a Kleenex. "I wish I'd met you under more pleasant circumstances."

"Me, too." Quinn is kind of surprised to find that she means it.

"Go up the stairs; you'll see which room is Rachel's right away."

"Thank you."

"Any time."

Quinn trudges up the Berrys' steps and steps onto the off-white carpet of their second story. Pictures of Rachel and her dads line the walls, and Quinn's eyes are drawn to the one of a very young Rachel (about three or four) dressed as Cinderella, being thrown up into the air by her dad who isn't James while he stood alongside and watched with a look of pure adoration on his face. Quinn wishes that there were more pictures like that in her house.

Rachel's room really isn't hard to find at all because the door is pink and covered with very large and sparkly gold stars. Plus, it actually says "Rachel's Room" on the door in big yellow letters. If Quinn didn't know any better, she would think she's about to entire the room of a five-year-old ballerina enthusiast. Then again, Rachel probably _was_ a ballerina enthusiast at five. Maybe she just never grew up. Or maybe she doesn't want to.

A couple of knocks gently bang on the partially open door, but there's another sound filling the room itself that drowns them out. Quinn leans forward slightly and pushes the door back slowly as not to induce creaking because she doesn't want to stop the angelic singing.

Rachel's sitting in her room with big headphones on that remind Quinn of the ones that air-traffic controllers wear (though Rachel's are pink), homework sprawled across her thoroughly neat desk that only has a closed Mac book and tiny blue lamp on it in addition to Rachel's various papers. The tune of "Halo" spills out of Rachel's mouth in a rich alto tone and Quinn is completely mesmerized. It doesn't even seem like the girl is _trying_; there's just something so natural about the way the words and notes and rhythms come out that indicate a certain nonchalance toward the whole affair. Listening to Rachel's voice is like being serenaded into Heaven, or at least so Quinn imagines it. She hopes that when she dies and goes to Heaven, that it's this song sung by this voice that guides her in. Although, she thinks with a self-conscious hand on her stomach, maybe she won't end up going to Heaven at all.

The two of them probably could have stayed like that forever if it hadn't been for Quinn's slight sigh of frustration when she placed her hand on her baby bump. This causes Rachel to spin around in her chair and then drop her jaw to the floor. She straightens up and tries to stand but nearly knocks over all her homework, so in the end she settles for removing her headphones and building up the courage to ask, "Quinn. How did you find my house?"

"William McKinley Student Directory," Quinn replies with a small smile. "I met your dad. One of them- James."

"That's Daddy," Rachel informs her and Quinn looks confused. "I call my other father Dad. So none of us get confused."

The ability to make pleasant small talk seems to have disappeared from Quinn's repertoire of social skills about the same time she heard Rachel singing about halos and saving grace. "I brought you cookies," she exclaims and holds them out at arm's length as though she's afraid of touching Rachel, which, really, she's not.

Rachel stands up to take them, here mouth still dangling near the floor. "Thanks... why?"

"For- for sitting with me. I don't know what I would've done without you." Quinn finishes her sentence quietly, unsure whether or not she wants Rachel to hear it.

The cookie smell ridiculously good as Rachel takes them and she contemplates eating one in front of Quinn right then and there, but then decides that that's probably a horrible idea. "I'm always glad to help," she mutters, which is kind of halfway true. Desperate to keep the room from slipping into a disgustingly awkward silence Rachel pops out the first thing that she can think of. "Would you like to do something? It _is_ Friday after all, and I know that you're used to having fun on Friday nights, so perhaps I could help you out with that."

Quinn, out of habit, wishes that she could say, "No, I've already got plans." But then she realizes- painfully- that Rachel is her only true friend, the only one who's made an effort to give a shit when everyone else has walked away. She might as well suck it up and go out with the girl who has been so incredibly nice to her for the past twelve days, not including weekends. It's either that or go sit in her car and cry in the Wal-Mart parking lot just so her parents don't suspect anything out of the ordinary, a journey she's been performing for the past two weekends. "Yeah, OK. Do you have any places mind?"

Her question is met with a shrug. "No. I don't ever go anywhere, so I don't really have that many ideas."

"You spend every weekend at home?" Quinn says incredulously before she can stop herself. Life has blessed her with good social abilities, some talent, and a pretty face, so she hasn't personally experienced a time without friends. Even now, she has Rachel no matter how strained and complicated their relationship is. And she honestly believes that she always will have Rachel even though she shouldn't be able to know that after only twelve days of real interaction with the ambitious singer.

Rachel shakes her head just a bit. "No. I go out with my dads a lot, and I've been going out with Glee kids a lot recently..." But then she trails off and looks down at her feet which are clad in blinding white buckled schoolgirl shoes, and Quinn recalls having to wear them during the two years she was forced to go to Catholic school. As much as she wants to spew out a comment regarding Rachel's fashion choice, she bites her tongue and tries to look at the only person who will still talk to her with new and unbiased eyes. She's surprised to find that the normally disgusting combination of a red argyle sweater, pleated brown skirt, knee-length white socks, and those _shoes_ works on Rachel and gives her a dignified look that most girls their age wouldn't be able to pull off. But somehow she can. It's a little weird to think of Rachel as anything other than the scourge of the earth, but Quinn's trying. She's _really_ trying because Rachel's been trying so hard to be nice to her for reasons beyond Quinn's comprehension.

"I have been bowling once, though. We could do that."

"What?" The statement catches Quinn off guard and she has to derail her train of thought to get back onto the subject at hand.

Rachel blinks at her. "Bowling. I went with Finn once, and..." Memories of her first bowling escapade with Finn come rushing back at her, and they're not exactly good ones anymore. The feeling of kissing Finn used to bring happy thoughts, but now all that springs to her mind is the taste of greasy pizza and stale bowling alley air. It must be Quinn's story that has changed her mind about him. That statement has probably made Quinn nervous or upset, so Rachel decides to remedy it. "It was the only time I've ever been bowling and now, well, that memory has been soured by his recent actions. Perhaps you and I can make a better one."

Ignoring the clearly date-like implications of Rachel's low tone and pouty lips, Quinn manages a nod. "Maybe we can."

Lima, Ohio, only has one bowling alley, and Rachel encounters remarkably similar feelings when she enters it tonight as she did when walking in with Finn. Both times, it's with someone she hardly knows and both times, she's excited much more than she should be. With Finn the underlying reasons were so overtly romantic she's not even sure they can be classified as underlying at all. Quinn elicits odd tingles in the pit of her stomach and brush fires on her skin whenever they make contact- they _are_ walking extremely close together, after all. It's not as though Rachel has never given thought to same sex attractions because she has, mostly since both her fathers obviously have said attractions. She doesn't think that she really has any of those but then again, she doesn't really have that many opposite sex attractions, either.

Quinn, on the other hand, has never been exposed to same sex attractions of any kind, except for that one time a young gay couple wandered into her church thinking it was the Universalist Unitarian church and her grandmother had kicked them out. The woman was old and feeble but screamed her ass off, and Quinn is certain that her Nana would've physically thrown both those boys out if she had the strength. "Rachel... we have to get shoes first." The other girl is already halfway out to the alleys when Quinn calls after her, and she blushes on the way back over. Quinn thinks it's kind of adorable, and that thought makes her much more confused than it should.

They pay for their shoes and step onto the very last lane, tucked into the corner where the smell of pizza and burgers and other assorted bowling alley grub wafts toward them and over takes the general smell of sweaty feet and old socks. It's kind of weird and silent at first until Rachel picks up a pink ball (just like last time) and sinks a total gutter ball that she laughs off, which gets Quinn to laugh to.

It's not like the cheerleader's a regular pro at bowling, and they end up with a combined total score of 174 with Quinn just barely eking out the win. When they look back on this night in the future, though, they will not remember the winner or the dismal score, but the soft touches and raucous laughter and the one celebratory hug that occurred when Rachel bowled the only strike of the game. There's another hug at the end to celebrate Quinn's abysmal victory and Rachel's arms slip from Quinn's shoulders to her waist and Quinn knows that that's _definitely_ not a platonic hug anymore. Not like she minds, though.

They go over to get food because it's 7:39 and neither of them have eaten anything since their side-splitting lunch at school. Rachel suggests they split something because she dislikes spending money and the portions are much too big here for her to polish off on her own and offers to let Quinn pick since she's pregnant. Quinn's not really sure why Rachel thinks her pregnancy will affect her food choice _that_ drastically but decides to go with it. She orders them a small pizza with Rachel's feelings in the back of her mind: it seems to be the least greasy item on the menu, and she figures her "date" would appreciate that. It's impossible to deny that descriptor of their outing now, though Quinn's not even sure if her "date" recognizes this shift. Rachel has probably never been on a date in her life- except for the one with _her_ boyfriend to this very bowling alley Quinn thinks with a wince- and therefore probably won't understand the signals that both she and Quinn are giving off.

"Can we go back into the corner? I really need to talk to you," Quinn asks with pleading eyes. Her mind is still chock full of unresolved questions and no matter how fun their time together has been, she needs some answers because everything is just trying to push itself out and she's afraid that she might explode if she has to keep it all in for much longer.

Rachel just nods, having very acute suspicions as to what this talk will entail. She's holding the pizza and Quinn's holding their sodas, and she's nervous that Quinn will confront her about the non-platonic advances they've both been making toward each other all night. Or, at least, she _thinks_ that Quinn has been doing the same thing. It appears that way to her, but she doesn't really have all that much experience to base it upon.

The table is squished more in the corner than the rest of the lane and they have to pull it a little bit away from the wall in order to give themselves some elbow room. Quinn slides Rachel her root beer and takes a sip from her Coke. It's like the first day of lunch as they munch on their pizza and don't talk, occasionally catching each other's eye. Rachel tries to smile, but Quinn won't ever quite meet it because she still doesn't feel worthy of this lovely treatment she's getting from the brunette.

"I know I asked you this before," Quinn begins as she sets down her pizza, "but I still don't understand. Why are you being so nice to me, when you could just be horrible to me like I've been to you since freshman year?"

Rachel wasn't expecting the conversation to go down this road. She composes herself and a reply. "Yes, that would be easy, but it wouldn't be right. If we all tried to right wrongs with more wrongs, the world would be in a lot of trouble. I'm not out to hurt you, Quinn, I'm really not. I think you can be a good person, if you just try a little."

"I want to," Quinn whispers, a hand sliding to her stomach and tears slipping from her eyes. "For the baby, and for you. To thank you, because you're a better person than anyone's ever given you credit for."

There's not much more for Quinn to say because Rachel's answered her question and though it's difficult for her, she'll just have to _believe_ that someone really can be this understanding. But with the talking over, there's no need to hold back the tears anymore. Rachel has never before been in a situation that involves comforting a former enemy over pizza in a bowling alley, so she takes her best guess as to what to do. She starts off with just a couple of strained pats on Quinn's back, but the cheerleader pretty much throws herself into Rachel's arms and bawls her eyes out.

It's wet and messy and uncomfortable because of the positioning of the chairs but it's so _real_ that hurt and pain and comfort and friendship all roll up into one and neither of them can really deny much of anything anymore.

Rachel has to drive them both back to her house, even though that's totally illegal because she only has a learner's permit and Ohio law states that she must have someone over the age of 18 in the car with her at all times. The sobs wracking Quinn's body and the tears blurring her vision, however, make it totally impossible for her to properly operate a motor vehicle, and Rachel's certain that she's probably a safer driver than most licensed teens, anyway. That doesn't mean that she still isn't terrified out of her mind.

It takes almost twice as long to get to the Berrys' house because Rachel insisting on using all the back roads so that she can drive at 10 miles an hour without causing a major accident and lots of road rage. Quinn doesn't even notice the elongated duration of their ride on account of how she's tired and exhausted and still sobbing profusely in the passenger seat. At the beginning of the ride, Rachel had to lean over and buckle her in because Quinn couldn't stop her hands from shaking long enough to do it herself. She hates how Rachel has to treat her like a little kid whenever she loses her motor control, which seems to be occurring more and more frequently as of late.

They arrive at the house and Rachel offers to let Quinn spend the night because she's clearly in no state to drive home. Quinn really doesn't want to take up any more of Rachel's time, but she's slowly realizing that their socialization isn't a huge imposition on the singer. Rachel locks the door to the car and slips the keys back into Quinn's pocket, and that fills both of them with a sensation they both understand but would rather not acknowledge.

She helps Quinn make her way up the steps because even though she's finally stopped crying, her ankles don't seem to be working right and they look kind of swollen to Rachel, anyway. Keys fumble and slip through Rachel's fingers until she gains control of them under the porch light's soft yellow glow, and it's then that the redness of Quinn's eyes and the shiny streaks on her face become painfully noticeable.

James is still lying on the couch when they shuffle in, but the television has changed to some cop drama that James doesn't seem to be invested in. He looks over to his daughter and refrains from making a comment about her being home slightly late when he sees the girl draped around his daughter's shoulders. Rachel mouths that she's spending the night and he gives a thumbs up. Rachel's Dad, Danny, comes in, ready to bust on Rachel, but James holds up his finger to his lips and points at their little girl. She's grown up so fast, it seems to Danny, when he sees her helping a girl up the stairs like someone who has gladly lifted the weight of the world off someone else's shoulders and hoisted it on their own.

Once they reach the safety of Rachel's room, the star-in-training goes into hyper mode, moving through the room at a fast pace. "Do you want some pajamas, Quinn? Or a toothbrush? Because we have all of those, and if you need anything, you can just ask-"

"I need to sleep," Quinn chokes out, her voice slightly hoarse from crying. "That's all... that's all."

Smiling with the air of an emergency room nurse, Rachel slides her perfectly made up pink sheets down the bed and untucks the blanket from the mattress. Quinn still stands awkwardly at the foot of her bed and watches her go through these motions, not really seeing anything but her soft hands busily folding and turning and touching.

"Are you going to take off your shoes first?" Rachel's hand is on her arm and that's what draws her out of the trance more so than the girl's words. Everything is just so surreal.

"Y-yeah." Reaching down, she quickly removes her shoes and resists the temptation to fling herself into Rachel's pristine bed.

Sighing, Rachel says, "You can get in the bed, Quinn. I need to grab a sleeping bag for myself anyway."

"No. Stay with me." It's clear what Quinn means by that and Rachel doesn't hesitate to abide by these rules. She steps one bold step closer and holds Quinn's small face in her right hand.

Naturally, as those they've been doing this forever, Rachel kisses Quinn's lips and comes to the realization that while Finn tasted like greasy pizza and stale bowling alley air, Quinn tastes like salty tears and some sort of mixed fruit lip gloss. Finn's mouth was kind of chapped and rough, while Quinn's is wet from her emotional breakdown. Finn's big hands grabbed her waist tightly, but Quinn's only linger there in a feather light touch that keeps Rachel both hooked on the taste and grounded from deepening it. There's a certain way that their bodies fit together that's unlike the way Rachel's and Finn's did, something that she appreciates a lot. Plus, she doesn't have to stand on her tiptoes to reach Quinn's tantalizing lips.

When she pulls back, Quinn's eyes are still closed like she's in shock, but that doesn't last for long. Her eyelids flutter open and she smiles and Rachel knows that it's time for bed. They slip under the covers and the bed is kind of small for both of their bodies and a little too short for Quinn's legs, but that's alright because Rachel lets Quinn snuggle up against her. The cheerleader's blonde hair rests on her chest and Rachel leans over to take Quinn's ponytail out, silky strands of gold cascading across her torso. Quinn looks even prettier like this. She closes her eyes in no time and wiggles closer to Rachel's warm form, arm across her stomach and body half on top of hers. Rachel doesn't mind, though, because there's no way in hell anyone could ever be upset at something so peaceful.

At 9 o' clock the next morning, James and Danny make their way over to Rachel's room to see if she and her friend want pancakes for breakfast because 9 o' clock is an hour later than Rachel usually sleeps on Saturdays. James says that they should just let the girls rest because clearly that Quinn girl was upset last night and that they'll come out when they're ready. Danny sighs but does not give in.

He opens Rachel's door slowly, allowing it to creak just the slightest before he and his husband peer in to see both girls still asleep and in a more intimate position than Danny would have liked to see his baby girl in. There's nothing inherently _wrong_ with how they're arranged, but Danny knows he would be flipping a shit if Rachel was in bed like that with a boy, and, well, he's always been a fan of equal treatment. Besides, he's never been sure that his daughter's 100% straight, so he knows that it's very likely she and this Quinn girl could have done something.

"Relax," James urges, pressing a hand onto Danny's arm. "They're both fully clothed still, and it looks like the same ones as from last night. And did you see the state Quinn was in when they came back? No way anything happened."

Danny has to admit that James brings up couple of good points. "Fine. Can we wake them up?"

"Hell no," James scoffs, careful to keep his voice down as Quinn lets out a small sigh of content and scoots closer to Rachel's body heat. "Besides, they're a _lot_ cuter together than her and that horrible oaf of a boy she's always with whenever we pick her up from glee club."

Still not sold, Danny folds his arms and James lays his head against Danny's shoulder. Rachel grips Quinn a little tighter in her sleep and a soft smile appears on her face. Even Danny has to say that it's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen. "Aw!" James coos as they back out of the room and shut the door.

"Forget Finn," James says to his husband once they've started down the stairs. "I've switched my allegiance to Team Quinn."


End file.
